Chapter Eighteen
Mia
Mateo knows how sad I am, so he gives me the rest of the night off.
We spend a little bit of cuddle time with Roman after dinner, but come bedtime, Mateo hands him off to Ju instead of putting him to bed in the room next to ours. Mateo does Rosalie’s bedtime story alone and I stay in bed, blankets pulled up over my head, heart heavy with dread and grief.
Once he returns to the bedroom, he pulls me close, tucks me against his chest, and just holds me. We don’t talk. We don’t make love. I like to believe we’re mourning together, though I don’t know if he actually mourns her. I tell myself he does, but the only remorse I sense in him is remorse over his actions hurting me, not remorse over what he’s going to do.
Eventually, I drift off to sleep.
I’m not a light sleeper like my husband, but these past few nights with Roman have me in the habit of listening for a disturbance. When my eyes fly open in response to a burst of noise, I automatically think it’s Roman and bolt upright, moving one leg over the edge of the bed to go get him.
But it’s not Roman. Roman is with Ju.
Dante stands in the open door of my bedroom, moonlight streaming in through the window and illuminating his dark features.
I don’t know what’s going on, but cold fear crawls down my spine. Dante left hours ago, after dinner. As far as I know, he doesn’t have a key to this house; Mateo doesn’t want him having unfettered access.
I reach beside me to alert Mateo and find the bed empty. My heart plummets and I look at the empty spot where my husband should be. I rub the spot, confused, my mind resisting the reality every sign points to.
Then, beyond the blood rushing through my veins, I hear the noises that woke me. The struggle. Coming from the floor on Mateo’s side of the bed.
A low, practically growled, “Get the fuck off me,” and the follow-up smack of a fist hitting flesh. I’m going to be sick. My mind searches desperately for an explanation, one that isn’t catastrophic, but it comes up blank. I peer over the side of the bed and see Mateo flat on his back, struggling to get Rafe off of him.
At least the motion of me looking over the edge briefly distracts Rafe. He gives me a slow smile, and says, “Hello, little one.”
It gives Mateo time to land a strong left hook right to his jaw. Launching myself back on the bed, I reach for the phone on my nightstand, but I’ve taken too long to react. Dante’s hand closes roughly around my wrist and he plucks the phone from my fingers, tossing it behind him. The phone hits the wall and drops to the floor while I struggle to get away from him.
“We should switch,” Dante tells Rafe, casually. “I think you’ll enjoy restraining her far more than I will.”
He’s obviously not talking to me. I pull back hard, trying to free my wrist. It’s futile, so I try for more leverage, leaning back and shoving my feet, trying to kick him in the stomach.
He deftly catches my ankle with his other hand and shakes his head at me, annoyed even now. “You are such a stupid little bitch. Now I have your hand and your foot. Now what?”
I narrow my eyes, swing my body, and kick him right in the face with my other foot. I feel good about it for a nanosecond, but it only serves to further piss him off. Releasing my ankle, he grabs a fistful of my hair instead and drags me off the bed.
“No,” I cry, as he locks my arms behind me painfully. My scalp is used to roughness, but not this level of roughness. “Ow! You’re hurting me.”
“Hey,” Rafe barks from the other side of the bed. “Don’t handle her that way. Let her go.”
Mateo punches him in the face for his effort, but I understand.
“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” Dante informs me. “Always have been, right from the moment you came on the scene. I’ll be honest, if I’d known the night he fucked you at the poker game you would be such a resilient pain in the ass, I’d have taken a picture of you dolled up like a little whore, sent it around, and sold your ass, right out from under his nose. Luca could’ve nabbed you on your way home from school—he’d still be alive, which he’s not, again, thanks to you.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. My voice is unsteady when I ask, “Who is Luca?”
“He was my friend,” Dante states, simply. “My brother let him die to appease your bullshit do-gooder agenda. The official story is some tale of Salvatore’s vengeance, but I’m no idiot; I know why he handed over one of his top earners and shut down my primary revenue stream.”
“As villain monologues go, this one isn’t bad.” My gaze snaps to the new voice as Alec strolls into the room. Alec? This one sort of shocks me. Alec has always been nice to me, overall.
“Shut up,” Dante says, glaring at his younger brother. “Took you long enough to get over here. Hold a gun on Mateo’s whore so I can go help Rafe out.”
I shake my head as Alec approaches. He takes my arm to keep me boxed in over here by the wall, but his touch doesn’t hurt like Dante’s did. Despite the lack of aggression in his hold, he does reach into his navy blue suit jacket and draw out a gun. “Please don’t do this. Alec, please. I’m pregnant.”
“You’ll be all right,” he assures me. “We’re not going to kill you. Just settle down, it’ll all be over in a few minutes.”
His calm is more alarming than anything.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, desperate to understand.
At least now, regret flickers across Alec’s face. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. Why would you go along with this?”
“Because I want to survive, Mia,” he answers, simply. “You’ve rendered Mateo ineffective. He doesn’t do what needs doing and Dante… well, luckily Dante noticed before any outside threats could. I like you, Mia, but not enough to let you bring down my whole family. It’s bad enough you’ve brought down Mateo.”
I sink back against the wall, horrified by his words. My chest fills up with anxiety, my mind swirling with emotions, all competing with one another to tear me apart. I shake my head in useless denial, but no measure of vehemence that he’s wrong clears the room of traitors and makes the man I love safe.
Alec’s hand falls and he takes a step away. Rafe approaches now to take his place and my heart doesn’t know what to feel. On one hand, Rafe has been my protector once before, the person who saved me.
Now he’s the opposite. Now he’s the harbinger of fears so dark, I didn’t even know I should be having them.
“You’re pale,” he states, as Alec walks around to the other side of the bed.
“Why?” I ask shakily, tears springing to my eyes. “Please. Please don’t do this. Please don’t let them do this. I’m begging you.”
Wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders, Rafe assures me, “You’ll have plenty of time to beg me from now on, little one. I’m afraid I can’t help you with this.”
I can barely walk, my legs are shaking so badly. I need Adrian. I need… the emergency phone.
I grasp my stomach, doubling over. Rafe’s hand immediately goes to my back, instinctively checking on me. “Are you okay?”
“Morning sickness,” I tell him, turning and running to the bathroom.
Once inside, I dart to the vanity, ripping open the bottom drawer and grabbing the phone Mateo keeps there for emergencies. It’s plugged into a charger, so I unhook it and slide my finger across the screen, shakily tapping the contacts icon.
An iron grip takes hold of my wrist, prying the phone from my fingers. “You know, if you’re going to cry morning sickness, you should at least feign some vomit noises,” Rafe states, dropping the phone in the sink and turning on the faucet. He cocks an eyebrow at me, unimpressed with my faking proficiency. Once the phone is good and ruined, he turns the faucet off and hauls me back to the bedroom.
Mateo is up off the floor now, but that’s almost worse. My heart hammers at the sight of my strong, clever husband restrained like this. His lip is split open, blood streaking his chin. There’s still fire in his brown eyes, but Dante has his arms locked behind his back and Alec is walking behind him with a gun pointed at his head.
Rafe pushes me on the bed.
I’m too busy watching them march Mateo across the room to remain upright, but I get to my knees on the bed. Before I can climb back off, Rafe pushes me over and climbs on top of me, sitting on my hips and effectively pinning me down.
“Get off me,” I cry, shoving at him.
“I won’t hurt you,” he states, his tone firm. “I’m not here to hurt you. Just stay put so we can get this done and keep you safe.”
“Yeah, this isn’t the only task on the to-do list tonight,” Dante states. “We’ve got to take care of your other husband, and I’m not much looking forward to that fight.”
“I’m still hoping we can just shoot him while he sleeps,” Alec puts in. “I know it’s three on one, but I’ve seen him win fights with worse odds.”
“Successful men don’t depend on luck,” Dante states, sounding vaguely agitated. “I’ll wake up his kid, take him along for incentive. Any fight he wants to put up is going to be tempered if I have my gun in his kid’s mouth.”
Westley. Adrian.
This cannot be happening.
I can’t breathe. My chest works as I try to draw air into my lungs, but I fail.
Rafe notices and tells me firmly, “Relax.” Tossing a look toward the door, he tells Dante, “Hurry up. Where’s Meg? I don’t trust her out of our sights.”
What? They took Meg, too? Why would they do that?
“I’ll get her,” Alec says, pivoting and heading for the hall.
Somehow what I expect to see next is Meg trussed up, hands tied, maybe gagged Maybe she’ll come in accompanied by some other muscle. Taking her hostage doesn’t make any sense to me, unless it’s because she’s Roman’s mom, but considering Mateo’s current feelings for her, I don’t understand why they’re bringing her into this at all.
Only, when she comes in the door, there’s no one managing her. There are no ropes or gags, nothing to indicate they’ve hurt or threatened her.
The realization that dawns on me must be written all over my face. Rafe leans down, running the back of his hand along my jawline. “Come on, you didn’t think you could trust her, did you? After what she did?”
I hear his words, but they don’t make it through the fog. My eyes are locked on Meg as she surveys the scene she’s walking into. First her gaze hits Dante and Alec, restraining Mateo. I can’t see the look on his face, but I assume murderous doesn’t begin to cover it. She flinches and looks away, her gaze automatically drawn to the bed. She sees Rafe first, since he’s on top of me. Then her gaze drops to me. She meets my gaze and I wait for something, anything, to disprove Rafe’s words.
I don’t get it.
She swallows, looking faintly guilty, but then she averts her gaze.
I’m alone here.
Help isn’t coming.
They were just talking about Meg being out of sight, so she was clearly out in the hall. If she didn’t want to be there, she could have gone for help. She knows where the emergency phones are hidden. She could have called Adrian.
Just like she could have told him Vince was waiting for me at the fucking bakery.
The weight of my disappointment is nearly unbearable. Not just in her, but in all of this. I trusted these people—not Dante, but Rafe, Alec, Meg—and it’s going to cost me everything I love.
I was wrong. People aren’t mostly good. People are mostly selfish, and I just don’t think like they do, so I always expect more. Generally it works out, but not this time.
Everyone I love is completely fucked, and it’s all my fault.
Suddenly I’m acutely aware of Rafe’s caress along my jawline. Rafe still has tenderness for me. I force my gaze away from the train wreck, away from Meg, away from Mateo, and look up at Rafe. I don’t have to force the tears that well up in my eyes, or the need on my face. I do need comforting. I do need protecting. I don’t want it from him, especially not right now, but he’s the only hope I have. Dante’s too mean, Alec’s a follower, Meg’s only loyal to herself—Rafe, though… I’ve appealed to him for help before. He may have expected a small fee, but he helped me. Mateo told me I did the right thing, that he wouldn’t have wanted me to do anything differently in that situation.
I reach for Rafe, my fingers finding purchase on his sides. It’s all the encouragement he requires; he leans down until he’s on top of me more intimately now, chest to chest, face close, like a lover. I run an appreciative hand along his muscular back and draw his body close.
“What do you want?” I ask, quietly.
He gazes down at me, pushing my hair behind my ear. “Hm?”
“Your wish list. The whole thing. Why are you doing this? Power?”
“Of course,” he says, almost lazily as he runs a thumb across my cheek. “Everyone wants power, little one.”
“You don’t have power in Vegas?”
“I do. I can have more here.”
I find myself nodding. That’s what I figured. I arch up so I can whisper in his ear. “Kill Dante. Take his spot. Pretend you were just going along with this to see how far he would take it. Mateo doesn’t trust Dante; he’ll be able to believe that.”
When I pull back, I’m disheartened to see him smiling. Not the kind of smile that can mean anything good for me—the kind that says my attempt is absolutely adorable.
I’ll show him fucking adorable.
I reach a hand down between our bodies and find his cock. His amusement evaporates as I catch him in my palm, rubbing him through the fabric. “Please, Rafe. I need you. I need you to stop this. I need you to save Mateo.”
Eyes closed, he murmurs, “Not sure this is the best way to convince me I should keep your husband alive.”
It’s the only way I have. I arch against his chest, rubbing my breasts against his chest. “You wanted to fuck me in Vegas, didn’t you? What if you could?”
“I plan to,” he states.
I stall, but I realize that makes sense. He said something about me having plenty of time to beg later.
“I won’t fuck you if you hurt Mateo,” I inform him.
“I think you will,” he disagrees.
“I won’t. You can take it from me, but it won’t be the same. Trust me.”
“I’m not a rapist,” he mutters, his gaze darkening.
“Good, then heed my words. I will never fuck you if you kill my husband. Never. Not ever. I’ll die first.”
“You’ll change your mind,” he assures me. “My training methods are much different from Mateo’s. You’ll like being mine.”
“Dante won’t let you keep me,” I fire back. “If you’re Dante’s number two…” I shake my head. “He hates me. He won’t let you keep me. He’ll kill me, Rafe.”
Rafe shakes his head, unconvinced. “I take care of what’s mine, but I take care of business first. No reason for him to have a problem with it.”
This isn’t working. Or, it’s not working quickly enough.
My heart skips a couple of beats. I look away from Rafe, over at Mateo. They have him on the floor now. They’ve hit him more. My heart is a useless slab, pounded with a mallet and sliced apart with a cleaver. Broken is too insufficient a word, but I don’t have time to process that right now. There’s little time left, and Rafe stands to gain too much to help me this time. I don’t know what else to do.
Dante hands Meg a gun. Why does he hand Meg a gun?
He crouches down, helping Alec restrain Mateo. Now Meg takes a couple small steps forward. Alec is above Mateo on the floor, holding Mateo down, but he doesn’t seem to have a lot of strength left right now anyway. They’ve been hitting him. Now they’re both holding him down. He can’t defend himself.
“Please… please no.”
My heart. Everything hurts. This can’t be happening.
“Meg!” I cry.
Her gaze jumps to me like a deer in the headlights. Her hand is shaky, but I know she doesn’t like guns either. Mateo always used to tease us about how uncomfortable we were around something he and the other men carried around the house literally every day.
“Don’t you dare,” I tell her, my voice shaking, but shrill toward the end. “Don’t you fucking dare, Meg.”
She looks away from me, swallowing. Dante says something to her that I don’t hear and she lowers the gun, points it at Mateo.
This fucking bitch. I have bled for her for years, and now she stands over my husband with a gun trained on his face.
Fury burns through my veins, turning my fear molten and desperate. I grab Rafe by the shirt and yank him close. “Please. Please, I’ll do anything you want me to do, I’ll give you anything. I’ll give you everything. Please. Kill Meg. Kill Dante. Kill Alec. Kill them all. Save Mateo. Please. Please, Rafe. Please don’t let them do this.”